A Kiss from the Darkness
by AliceofDeath
Summary: AU. John Watson the youngest trauma surgeon to ever graduate with perfect marks is also the world's budding thief Nero. One night while stealing the painting The Ship of Fools from the Louvre he comes across , en route, the young and ethereal beauty of 18 years old Sherlock Holmes on the roof and stole the younger man's (hopefully) first kiss. side story to ch. 3 of "TBoP"


As a Gentleman Thief known to the world as Nero there is one memory of a person ,whose name I'll probably never know, which I keep near my heart.

On the night on which I had set my eyes on the rather large painting of The Ship of Fools from the Louvre I met the most breath-taking man I have ever seen, his beauty, I know it is strange to call a man beautiful but perhaps I may be forgiven for handsome does not fit it so, is ethereal as if he is an angel among the humans.

This fascination of mine towards the man(or perhaps boy as the person in question not only screams intelligence in his whole being but a certain child-like quality in him) made me stall for a while in the roof though I know that in 5 minutes the Police and Gendarmerie would realize I am no longer in front of them.

I had only notice this being upon hearing the almost inaudible gasp from behind myself upon landing on the roof of an admittedly large house near the tower. I turned and to my delight and surprise a young man, I think this is the most fitting, whose beauty is ethereal sat behind me, his thin body leaning on the cold stone on the roof's ledge, his jet black mop of curls framing his porcelain face with high cheek bones that was slightly rosy due to the cold air I allow myself a curious smile.

"what's a pretty thing like you doing here unguarded? " I ask teasingly in perfect french for I could never wonder what kind of parents would allow their beautiful son unguarded on the roof.

At that time if I was merely on the way to steal the painting and come upon this beautiful young man I would have chosen him as my target leaving the police who would wait all night long for a thief that would never come but alas I had come upon the young man after the theft. The young man whom I shall call etoile for his beauty shines in the night sky the most merely frowned at me though pouted seemed to be the right word now that I think of it.

But at that moment I merely chuckled and tried to make him speak to me if only to put a voice on the beautiful face I had the fortune of seeing and his words reached my ears

" for a thief that is being hunted by both the Gendarmerie and Police you seem so lax" he says in his dulcet voice that pleases my ears I smile even more" worry not, my dear " and I walked towards him as he stubs his fag and I took his hand holding it gently and gracefully as I brought it to my lips to kiss his reddened knuckles. I took note of his surprised and reddened cheeks that made him have a ghost of a smile that was undoubtedly enchanting

" for no one could ever catch the darkness " I said and with a breathlessness he said the name I am known by the world as " Nero " I wonder if he is aware of the fact that he smiling like a child in christmas and on the corner of my mind it made me wonder if my true name passes out of those luscious lips would he say it with disdain or perhaps awe and if I dare say so love?

but time was running out and I since I could not steal this young man right now and leave the expensive painting in the roof I stole what I could for now, I stole his (hopefully) first kiss and with practice skill efficiently left my spare calling card in his trousers back pocket.

The kiss though sweet and chaste felt to me like eternity I fancy thinking that on that night I had also left my heart with him for I am sure that never would I ever meet a young man like him that rivals the stars.

One day I hope that I may meet this young man once more, if only to tell him of my feelings as Nero and if fate permits as John H. Watson.

October 20,2008

* * *

A few months after this incident on the roof, John would at times, on the safety of his flat, twirl his calling card and think of the young man he kissed on that roof in Paris and the promise to himself that he would one day search for the young man and steal him and everything that is his.

And that day would be the last of Nero.


End file.
